The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses—the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain;
The negro that drives the dray of the stone-yard—steady and tall he stands, pois’d on one leg on the string-piece ;
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast, and loosens over his hip-band;
His glance is calm and commanding—he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead; 220
The sun falls on his crispy hair and moustache—falls on the black of his polish’d and perfect limbs.
[13.1]
I behold the picturesque giant, and love him—and I do not stop there;
I go with the team also.
[13.2]
In me the caresser of life wherever moving—backward as well as forward slueing ;
To niches aside and junior bending. 225
[13.3]
Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain, or halt in the leafy shade! what is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
[13.4]
My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck, on my distant and day-long ramble;
They rise together—they slowly circle around.
[13.5]
I believe in those wing’d purposes, 230
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet, and the tufted crown, intentional;
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else;
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut , yet trills pretty well to me;
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me. 235
[13.6]
13.
The negro holds firmly the reins of his four horses—the block swags underneath on its tied-over chain;
The negro that drives the dray of the stone-yard—steady and tall he stands, pois’d on one leg on the string-piece ;
His blue shirt exposes his ample neck and breast, and loosens over his hip-band;
His glance is calm and commanding—he tosses the slouch of his hat away from his forehead; 220
The sun falls on his crispy hair and moustache—falls on the black of his polish’d and perfect limbs.
[13.1]
I behold the picturesque giant, and love him—and I do not stop there;
I go with the team also.
[13.2]
In me the caresser of life wherever moving—backward as well as forward slueing ;
To niches aside and junior bending. 225
[13.3]
Oxen that rattle the yoke and chain, or halt in the leafy shade! what is that you express in your eyes?
It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life.
[13.4]
My tread scares the wood-drake and wood-duck, on my distant and day-long ramble;
They rise together—they slowly circle around.
[13.5]
I believe in those wing’d purposes, 230
And acknowledge red, yellow, white, playing within me,
And consider green and violet, and the tufted crown, intentional;
And do not call the tortoise unworthy because she is not something else;
And the jay in the woods never studied the gamut , yet trills pretty well to me;
And the look of the bay mare shames silliness out of me. 235
[13.6]
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